


Angels' Nest

by TrasBen



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Cross is an idiot, Drugging, Dubious Consent, Frottage, M/M, No Context, Orgy, Star Sans Poly?, Star Sanses (Undertale), Star Sanses/Cross (Undertale), Wings, hes a big stupid man and i love him, is that a tag, killer loves it too lol, possibly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:42:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28744182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrasBen/pseuds/TrasBen
Summary: Cross stumbles into a situation he's definitely not prepared for.
Relationships: Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 85





	Angels' Nest

**Author's Note:**

> hey!! hey!! firstly, 18+,,,,,
> 
> second TW: for dub-con (consent not clearly stated, but implied), and non-con drugging (with aphrodisiacs)

Maybe the letter that had arrived on Nightmare’s desk one morning should have been suspicious. But Nightmare had only taken one look at it before rolling his eye light and tossing it away.

Curiously, he’d picked apart the wax seal - in the shape of a sun - and opened it up. Inside, there was a letter explaining that the Star Sanses - Dream, Ink, and Blue - would all be gathered together on a night not so distant. At the bottom, there was another sun-shaped stamp.

The symbol looked somewhat familiar, but Cross just couldn’t place it.

* * *

This is a dumb idea.

It’s a really, _really_ dumb idea. So dumb, in fact, that Nightmare had clearly told Cross point blank: _Don’t do it_

…

Of course, Cross has never claimed to be particularly _smart_.

But he is _thorough_. And thorough is as thorough does - when you get tipped off that your enemies (nemesis-es? rivals?) are all going to be in one place for an evening, don’t you take the chance and follow through? 

Cross trained for the royal guard back in his timeline, he spent years at it. He’s used to taking orders, but….

Deliberately being told to hold back when there’s action waiting, right there?

It’s not that being Nightmare’s body guard isn’t fulfilling, or that the missions they go on are boring, but Cross is probably more akin to a Swap Sans than any other. Action is exciting to him, he doesn’t _like_ sitting still.

… Dust, Killer, and Axe aren’t like that.

In fact, Killer, who is supposed to be Cross’ _partner_ , refused to go with him!

Of course, it was explicitly forbidden by Nightmare, but…! Of all the off-limits activities for Killer to _not_ agree to.

And the _way_ he’d said it, too.

Killer had looked Cross up and down, smirked, and asked him to repeat himself. And when Cross did - stated that he wanted to go to the location where the _Star Sanses_ were supposedly gathering for the night - Killer had laughed.

Cross felt his face light up bright purple while Killer calmed down. He had a strong, _strong_ urge to storm off and curse Killer out whilst doing so, but stayed for a moment longer to ask what Nightmare wouldn’t answer; he wanted to know _why._

_“tell you what.” Killer chuckled, “why don’t you go over there and see for yourself?”_

Cross sputtered for a moment. The whole part of bringing a partner was to have _backup_. He’d only been a part of Nightmare’s crew for a few months at most, but he knows _that_ much, at least. It’s another one of the boss’ big no-nos to go alone on any sort of mission.

He would already be breaking _one_ rule by going, so to go alone might actually garner punishment beyond getting sent to his room without dinner or some other slap on the wrist.

And he… Well. 

Cross has heard about the fights between the crew and the Star Sanses. Killer has plenty of scars and stories to tell, although he always brushes them off. Cross hasn’t had to fight them, _yet_. He isn’t sure he’s all quite ready.

...

Maybe Killer had seen it on his face. Stars know apparently _every other Sans_ out there besides Cross is freakishly good at reading minds.

With a wink, Killer followed up with the words that had brought Cross to where he is now, outside an Underlust club that (unsurprisingly) doubles as a brothel.

Cross can still hear them floating around his skull, tempting and low.

_“i’ll cover for you.”_ He’d offered, _“just come back with a good story, alright?”_

Usually anything that happens in a Lust ‘verse _stays_ in a Lust ‘verse, but Cross is reasonably certain he won’t be getting into any sort of illicit interactions tonight. Nerves threaten to rattle his bones with every step further into the crowd of intoxicated monsters he takes, putting sex far out of his mind.

The tip he’d gotten claimed that the Star Sanses would be up in a private room on the second floor.

Cross has no idea (well, he has a _few_ ideas) what the proclaimed protectors of the multiverse would be doing in a place like this, but he carries on regardless. He gets a few looks from other monsters, most likely due to his clothing. It might not catch him any odd looks in a different timeline, but they stand out… here.

The note with the room number scrawled on it is clutched tightly in his hands as he pushes past sweaty monsters. The crowd is particularly hard to make his way through, with monsters all grinding on each other and touching everywhere and dancing to the strangely hypnotic, pulsing music.

It’s so loud that it’s all Cross can really focus on, setting a steady beat for his soul to follow. He feels sweat accumulate on his forehead when he’s about halfway through the crowd, and it only gets worse the closer to the set of stairs in the back he gets.

Finally, _finally_ he reaches the stairs. Cross all but sprints up them to bend over the balcony and _breathe._

Skeletons don’t need to intake oxygen through lungs, but it sure seems like he’d been deprived of _some_ vital factor in that crowd. He takes a few spare seconds to look down at the mess he’d just navigated. The music is softer up here, finally allowing him to shake off the weird vibrations it had given him.

None of the monsters downstairs seem to mind. He’s almost slightly jealous of the good time they’re having, so distant from all of the multiversal happenings. They might not even realize that some of the most powerful beings in the multiverse are in the same building as them.

Maybe Cross doesn’t even realize how big of an undertaking this truly is. His boss - Nightmare - is undoubtedly on par with all of them. Knowing that for centuries, he’s fought at least his brother and the Creator, Ink, without a crew puts that into perspective.

… A new perspective that Cross is just starting to see.

Looking down at the note, he thinks, _really_ thinks, about who could have written it. Nightmare hadn’t dismissed it, and it’s not like just _anybody_ can deliver messages to the castle. Perhaps even Nightmare’s own vehemence against investigating had solidified Cross’ confidence in the unknown informant.

Killer hadn’t seemed stressed about it, although he _also_ hadn’t wanted to seemingly put himself at risk…

And what is Cross even doing here, anyways?

He can’t fight the Star Sanses on his own….

Cross had been hoping originally to try and gather information, but he’s doubting himself. He should’ve planned better…!

Come up with some sort of disguise or story. He figured that the Star Sanses had never seen him before, so they wouldn’t recognize him, but it seems like a rather flimsy defense now.

Cross worries over the stamp at the bottom of the note with his thumb while he goes over his _other_ worries in his head.

What is he supposed to do, waltz right in and pretend to be a guest? He -

“Excuse me?” A soft voice behind Cross speaks up suddenly, nearly startling him out of the skin he doesn’t have.

He whirls around to see a rock monster, made up of gray granite speckled with black flecks. They have on a uniform, which immediately causes him to relax. Then, to tense up all over again wondering if he’s about to get kicked out for standing around like a weirdo.

“uh, uh, yeah?” He replies, trying to sound as innocent as possible. It’s probably a lost cause considering he’s sweating like a fish monster in hotland.

“I couldn’t help but notice the note in your hand…” The monster continues, demure, “Did you need help getting somewhere?”

Cross cringes. Well. He’s been caught. A humiliated flush crawls up his vertebrae with a flash of heat.

“no, that’s, uh, it’s actually - it’s fine.” Cross assures the employee, “i mean, i…”

The monster giggles. “First time?”

Which, of course, makes Cross feel a whole new type of shame. Great. Now they think he’s here for… reasons.

“It’s okay. I recognized the seal. You’re here to see some of our patrons, right?” The monster takes Cross by the hand and leads him towards a hallway with doors lined up on either side. They’ve all got signs on the handle that let outsiders know whether the room is… occupied, or not.

Meanwhile, Cross is lost. Mentally, that is.

They recognized the seal? Did it belong to the club?

Cross hadn’t seen the motif anywhere inside, but he could’ve missed it amongst the crowd…

“Here.” The monster says, stopping at a door reasonably near the end of the hallway. “They’re waiting for you inside.”

And Cross only has a second to think about what _they’re waiting for you_ means before he’s ushered in. Behind him, the door clicks shut with finality and all he can register is the smell of something sweet.

Too sweet, almost.

“Oh, good.” Another voice speaks up, sounding relieved. “I almost thought you wouldn’t show.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, Cross looks up.

He’s in a lavish room, with plush walls and even plusher couches. It’s all purple-themed, like he’s just walked into one of Muffet’s parlors. Pillows litter every available surface except for the smooth, glass coffee table directly in front of the largest couch. There are a few drinks on it, untouched.

And on the couch…

Well. This is the correct room, alright.

Cross hasn’t ever met the Star Sanses in person, but stories of them are widely known. Skeletons, just like him, but… otherworldly. Glowing.

One of them even has a halo floating a few inches above his skull. He’s got a blue flush to his bones, which means he’s likely Blue. Taken under the wings of the Guardian and Creator respectively - Dream and Ink.

Quite literally, it seems, because the two skeletons are sporting _actual_ wings.

Cross recognizes Ink by the splatter of his namesake on his cheekbone. He has stark black wings with white spots. His exposed bones are absolutely _covered_ in careful designs, looking both mesmerizing and strangely alluring.

Dream, on the other hand, has off-white wings that tinge gold near the ends. His magic has the same shine to it, much like the golden circlet on his skull. 

And the three of them…

They are _quite_ dressed up for the universe. All wearing identical slips, translucent and lacy black little numbers with stockings pulled up the bare bones of their legs.

“OF COURSE HE WOULD.” Blue speaks up in response, although none of their eye lights ever leave Cross. “HE GOT OUR NOTE, RIGHT?”

Cross blinks, feeling said letter wrinkle in his hand as he bunches his fists.

This… this was a set up. Of course. Of _course._

Dream tilts his skull, and Cross remembers that much like his brother, he can sense feelings.

“Don’t worry, we’re not going to hurt you.” He tells Cross sympathetically, “Honestly, we just like to meet the newbies.” Dream offers up a little nervous laugh.

“Yeah, come on, sit down!” Ink encourages, patting the spot next to him where Blue is making some room. “We thought Nightmare actually convinced one of you guys not to come.”

“SOMETIMES HE’S NO FUN.” Blue says by way of agreement.

“We haven’t hurt one of you outside of battle even once.” Dream sighs.

Cross’ feet are still stuck in place. He’s still processing that this had been planned by the three all along. No wonder Nightmare had forbade him.

But guessing by their words… he’s not the first of Nightmare’s crew to let his curiosity overwhelm him.

Killer’s smug smirk comes to mind. Damn him. Damn him, damn him, _damn_ him! It would only take a small warning, a little “by the way, it’s a set up”.

Of course he’d wanted to see Cross embarrassed, though. He’s made it clear that’s been a prerogative of his since Cross joined the team two months ago.

Blue uncrosses and crosses his legs again, drawing Cross’ attention like a fly to honey. The tease of bare bone has Cross unhealthily curious. He brings something that looks like a blunt up to his teeth and takes a puff, blowing out sweet smelling smoke in Cross’ direction. 

The smell suddenly makes sense, although Cross hadn’t noticed Blue had been smoking earlier.

The fresh brush of the sweet smell in Cross’ nasal aperture makes his skull a little fuzzy. “WELL?” Blue sort of murmurs. “ARE YOU COMING?”

And just like that, the whole tone of this little visit shifts. Something in Cross’ head shifts, too. Maybe it’s the smoke or the sight of three attractive monsters beckoning him closer with nothing but their body language.

The combination of six eye lights and his steadily lowering inhibitions drags Cross’ feet towards the large couch. He stumbles over his shoes for a moment, but the closer he gets to the smell of the smoke, the less critical thought he seems capable of.

He feels each skeleton’s stare like a touch. Cross wants to ask why they’ve asked him here, but he doesn’t know _how_ without sounding completely pathetic. He has a pretty good idea of what, though.

Cross is still cognizant enough to tell if he’s willing to get into… whatever this is. And the answer is a surprisingly resounding yes. His soul beats a little fast at what he’s doing, knowing fully that Nightmare would disapprove of what might happen next.

“Oh, wow.” Dream gasps quietly when he comes to stand in front of the three of them. “You’re quite tall.” That feeling of their gaze becomes tangible as the golden skeleton reaches out to lay a hand on Cross’ humerus.

That gentle brushing feels like a shock of electricity, but an incredibly _good_ one. It feels like _goodness_ , pleasure is flowing throughout his body, stemming from that one point of contact. Cross’ sockets slip shut and he grunts.

“i…” He chokes out, trying not to openly pant, “you…”

“Nightmare has good taste, hm?” Ink replies sardonically, completely ignoring Cross, smirking over at where the two are connected.

Dream’s eye lights snap back to Ink sheepishly as he trails his touch lower down Cross’ arm until his hand finally leaves him. “Yes.”

It’s like coming out of a dream when the other’s hand leaves him. Cross gasps and almost falls forward. Dream lets out a guilty giggle. “Sorry, it’s hard to remember sometimes.”

By now, Cross can hardly comprehend _why_ Dream would be apologizing for _that_.

Still coming down from whatever it is Dream had done and the fresh smell of sweet smoke, it’s no surprise that Cross easily sits next to Blue when prompted by the short skeleton.

“what,” Cross swallows as he’s situated into the pillows, “what….?”

“It’s my magic.” Dream explains, careful not to touch Cross as Blue gets to work settling in his lap, straddling the taller monster. He’s got his fists bunched into the plush underneath him, looking like he severely wants nothing more than to run his hands all over Cross again. “It makes you, oh, umm… feel things.”

Just as Cross seems to realize that Blue is now _in his lap_ , his attention is pulled away yet again. By Ink this time. The Creator pulls his face towards him by holding his chin delicately. “Pretty nice, right?” Ink’s eye lights are mismatched, one heart and one star. But he winks and suddenly there’s a square instead. “You like it?”

That’s an understatement. Cross nods frantically, knowing it’s not enough to convey what he’s currently feeling.

It feels like _heaven_ , and with the growing fuzz in Cross’ mind, he might start to believe he’s surrounded by actual angels. He’s even forgotten why he’s here, only knowing that he’s being treated to one of the most pleasurable moments of his life.

Ink doesn’t help the illusion, bringing a glass vial up to his mouth. “Here, this feels pretty nice, too.” Cross doesn’t see the curl to the grin, doesn’t hear the small titters of laughter that come from Blue and Dream.

It’s liquid ambrosia.

It must be. 

It tastes like strawberries and pleasure. Cross drinks it down gratefully and finds himself panting when the vial is taken away. He feels his magic form in his pants, ready for use, but he ignores it as he tries to follow the empty bottle with his mouth. However, Cross’ efforts are in vain as he’s stopped by Dream.

“hnn…” Cross mumbles incoherently.

Impatient, Dream pulls Cross’ face away and towards himself, kissing him straight away. Between their tongues and the way Blue’s pelvis moves against his own, Cross can’t tell if the desperate sounds are coming from him or Dream. His own hands need something to hold onto, and they choose Blue’s iliac crests as a suitable option. 

It must hurt, but Blue doesn’t show any indication of discomfort, only letting out a small gasp before he starts to ride Cross from above their clothes.

But it doesn’t matter anyways, because Dream’s touch has sent him back to that place from only a moment ago. That perfect place, where there’s no stress, no worry. Just him and the feeling of so many hands slipping underneath his clothes.

Between then and Ink turning Cross towards him yet again, he manages to lose all the clothes on his torso. He doesn’t worry where they’ve gone, just lets the mixing taste of sugar apple and that strawberry elixir from earlier take over his mind.

It goes on like that for a bit, with Dream and Ink trading Cross between them like _he’s_ the drug.

Blue watches with avid interest, smoking his blunt till it's just a nub, putting it out on an ashtray behind him and starting to roam _both_ hands over Cross’ chest as he works his hips. At some point, his hands make their way under the flimsy excuse for clothing Blue has on, and his thoughts from earlier are confirmed: they’re not wearing underwear.

The loud groan that results from this revelation is one hundred percent _all_ Cross. “oh, stars…”

“YOU CALLED?” Blue jokes dryly, choosing right then to pinch at the cartilage between his lower lumbar.

The air around him is quickly heating up just as fast as his bones had, heavy with the heavy exhales from all four skeletons on the couch. It gets so hot that Cross has to close his sockets again and just let the sensation roll over him so he doesn’t pass out.

Of course, he’d black out just as the first orgasm of the night hit him.

* * *

When Cross wakes next, it’s to the _very_ quick realization of what’s just happened. It’s hard not to remember when he opens his sockets to a purple ceiling and the feeling of the inside of his pants being simultaneously slippery, sticky _and_ crunchy. Cross cringes and sits up, half expecting the Star Sanses to still be here.

… They’re not.

But Nightmare’s disapproving form, standing impatiently at the door, foot tapping rapidly on the floor, is just as shocking. His boss’ tentacles wind and unwind in an agitated manner behind him.

Cross feels every single bone in his body grow pale. It doesn’t help that Killer’s standing just a few feet off from him, holding a single hand over his teeth with shaking shoulders.

Dust is inspecting the drinks on the coffee table with disinterest while Axe lounges on a clean couch, just as bored. The entire room is covered in stray feathers, familiar from the monsters that had been here just hours ago. Cross thinks he can feel one tickling his clavicle, and swipes a hand down his ribcage to dislodge it.

“Looks like sleeping beauty has _finally_ woken up.” Nightmare announces sarcastically.

Killer giggles, “looks like it. mornin’, crossy-kins.”

Cross pushes himself up quickly and closes his legs together to hide what surely must be a disaster of a stain. He looks around frantically to find the rest of his clothes, and finds them neatly folded beside him. “oh my stars…” He whispers to himself, feeling his skull burn.

“No need.” Nightmare tells Cross, “We’ve seen enough. Which is strange, because… I remember expressly forbidding you from coming here.” The monster taps at his chin with faux confusion and a calculating look in his eye light.

Cross’ jaw drops open at Killer’s rather gleeful expression. “you…” He starts, “you said you’d cover for me!”

Nightmare turns his disapproving stare over to Killer, “Oh?”

Killer rocks on the balls of his feet, “i might’a said something like that.” He admits, “but you _also_ gotta admit, this is hilarious.”

“For delta’s sake…” Nightmare mumbles, turning his attention back to Cross. “Are you hurt?”

Cross looks down at himself. The Star Sanses apparently hadn’t taken advantage of his state to do more than, well, _take advantage_ of him. But even that part in his memory is sort of fuzzy, but extremely… nice.

Something he might have participated in fully had he known what was going on.

But knowing that they’d planned it all along, drawing him in like a fool, causes fresh humiliation to flood into him.

“he’s fine.” Killer nods.

Cross grunts as he tugs his layers back on. “oh, fuck off.”

“looks like you did enough of that last night.” Dust retorts quickly. It earns another giggle-esque noise from Killer, at least, who hasn't stopped grinning throughout this entire ordeal.

Nightmare sighs, sounding like he wants nothing more than to just be done already. “Let’s just get home…”

… Killer still presses for details when they do.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this because i wanted to write about cross stumbling into a den full of sexy angels but i barely ended up writing about the wings fjdklfjk
> 
> also.... blue doesn't have wings but im just going to say that the influence of being around ink and dream gave him a cute lil halo so
> 
> also also!!! i find the idea that the star sanses seduce every new member of nightmare's crew so funny fjdkslf
> 
> ......my first work of the new year and its this can you believe me because i sure can't


End file.
